Page 23

RIVER

A soft melody pulls me from my peaceful slumber.

The song is familiar, and it reverberates around my head like it’s coming from somewhere close.

Like “ right next to me” kind of close.

Though I’m not ready to wake up yet, I drag my eyes open and peer around.

Green. So much green.

Like my favorite chocolate candies. It makes me want M&M’S bad.

My stomach growls at the thought of food.

The bed shakes with laughter, and the music stops.

“Someone’s hungry,” Dean says, peering down at me, his guitar in his hands.

“If someone hadn’t kept me up all night and had fed me properly, my stomach wouldn’t be growling.”

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted on only pie and then another round.”

“And you’re the one who woke me up in the middle of the night for the next.”

He doesn’t look the least bit sorry, and honestly, for once I’m not the least bit upset by my lack of sleep. Even though I’m sore in all the best ways possible, I feel like a million bucks. Worn out yet satiated…and maybe a little hungry for more.

He lifts a shoulder, grinning down at me. “Told you I was sex-deprived. Just trying to make up for all the months I went without.”

“Right.” I pull myself up to a sitting position, resting my back against the headboard. “I’m sure.”

My shuffling around pulls at the blanket, and it falls dangerously low, drawing my eyes to his very obvious erection.

Unlike me, who threw my panties and camisole back on after my shower, Dean slept naked last night. I learned he’s only been sleeping in boxer briefs because of me.

“Why does it sound like you don’t believe me that it’s been months since I’ve slept with someone?”

“Did you forget we’re neighbors?”

“No?”

“I’ve seen the girls come in and out of your apartment over the last year. I’m aware you’re not hurting for entertainment.”

His black brows lift. “Been spying on me, River?”

“Please. I have so many better things to do with my time.”

“Uh-huh. Like stay at home on your couch with your cookies and ice cream?”

“Oh my gosh. You saw me with a bag of snacks in the elevator one time .”

“One time a week .”

I flip him off. He laughs.

Then reaches to the nightstand, grabbing his cell phone and plunking it into my lap. “Call your optometrist.”

“What?”

He nods toward the phone, moving his fingers back to the guitar strings, plucking at them mindlessly. “Your eye doctor—give them a call.”

“Why?”

“Because clearly, you need your eyes checked.”

I roll said eyes, tossing his phone back onto the bedside table. “Please. Do not try to sit here and tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Oh, I’m not telling you you’re seeing things. Just saying you’re not paying attention to what’s right in front of you. ‘All those girls’ you’ve been seeing? It’s the same girl.”

I crinkle my nose, shaking my head. “No, it’s not.”

“I can assure you, it is.”

My eyes widen. “You’re going to tell me that’s your sister again, aren’t you?”

His lips curve into a smile. “She colors her hair often—the one rebellious streak she has. I’m flattered you think I’m such a catch that I can score all the ladies all the time.” He pats his bare chest. “Gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

“Ugh.” I swat at him, but he hides behind his guitar. “Shut up. I’m going back to bed. I already can’t deal with you today.”

I shimmy down the mattress, grabbing the blankets and pulling them up to my chin.

He laughs, and his fingers brush against the guitar strings.

That soft melody from before fills the room, and my eyes grow heavy quickly. It’s so soothing, I might actually fall back asleep.

Then, I hear it.

It’s soft. Quiet.

Beautiful.

I’ve complained about Dean’s impromptu concerts on his balcony before, but truthfully, I love them.

I don’t know how many nights I’ve sat in my living room with the windows open, listening to him play.

He doesn’t sing often, but when he does, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen.

His voice isn’t perfect. It’s not like he has a crazy, untapped talent he’s been hiding and will one day become some mega-superstar.

But it’s good enough that it draws you in, makes you pay attention.

The chords fade and so does his voice, and I roll back over, peeking up at him.

“What song was that?”

“ Night Moves by Bob Seger. One of my favorites. It’s about fucking.”

He winks at me, and I blush.

He continues to pluck the strings, and an ache begins to form between my thighs as I remember how his fingers felt on me…in me…last night.

I’ve never had sex three times in one night. Hell, I can’t remember a time I had it more than once before. Other guys I’ve been with have always been a one-and-done kind of thing, and most of the time they didn’t even care if I got off.

Not Dean.

He was attentive. Very attentive.

I felt adored. Sexy. In capable hands. He made me feel like he’d never get enough of me.

I already know if I’m not careful, I could get used to feeling like that.

When I push back up to a sitting position, he turns to me.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“In a minute.”

I grab his guitar from his hands and set it on the floor next to the bed. I replace it with me.

I slip onto his lap and his hands automatically find my hips, fitting me against him like I belong there.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

I drop my lips to his and do just that.

He kisses me back, quickly taking control of the situation and sweeping his tongue along my lips. I open for him, letting him explore my mouth as I rock my hips against him, trying to find the friction I’m craving so much.

He chuckles, pulling away and smirking up at me. “Got a taste and now you can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Moment ruined.

I roll my eyes and try to wiggle away, but he holds me in place.

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing. Don’t go. I like the feeling of you up here. You feel good.”

“Well, you ruined it, so”—I throw my hands in the air, then cross them over my chest—“might as well ask me what you were going to ask me.”

He nods toward the other side of the room. “What’s with the hole in the wall?”

I feel the color drain from my face.

Shit. My clit vibrator hole.

“Uh…”

Think of something. Think of something!

“The apartment came like that.”

He tucks his lips together, trying not to laugh at that. “It came with a hole in the wall, huh?”

“Yep. It’s decorative. Yours didn’t come with that?”

Why the hell are you doubling down on this?!

“That’s what you’re going with?”

“Going with?” I push my chest out. “It’s the truth.”

“Uh-huh. It has nothing to do with the night you were in here masturbating and chucked something at the door when I scared you.”

My mouth drops open.

He chuckles and reaches out with two fingers, pushing it closed.

“How did you know that?!”

Another laugh. “Well, I wasn’t sure, but I am now.”

I glower at him. “ This is why I hate you.”

“No it’s not.”

“How did you come to the conclusion that I was masturbating?”

“You definitely said my name when I walked by your room. You slung something at the door, and it was obvious you were startled, which means you were doing something naughty . I just put two and two together and assumed you were in there flicking your bean and thinking about me.”

“Okay, first, absolutely nobody calls it that. It is not called a bean, and you certainly do not flick it. Do not ever flick my clit.” I jam my finger into his chest with every word. “And second, do you really think I was masturbating to you and said your name when I came?”

“Absolutely.”

He says it so confidently. He’s so damn sure.

It’s annoying how cocky he is.

And so fucking hot.

Ugh!

“You are absolutely delusional, you know that?”

“Tell me the flaw in my logic.”

“I did not say your name at completion!”

“But you were masturbating?” He smirks like he just won a fucking prize.

I groan, tossing my head back.

The movement has my hips shifting and Dean grunting at the contact with his dick.

I do it again. Another grunt.

And again.

He jerks me to him, crashing his hands into my hair and pulling my lips back to his in a rough kiss. I don’t stop moving my hips, and he doesn’t stop kissing me until we’re panting and needing more.

He wrenches his mouth away. “Do you still have it?”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, and honestly, I don’t even want to hear him talk right now. I just want to keep kissing him. I try to pull him back to me, but he resists.

I growl, frustrated. “Do I still have what?”

“Whatever you threw at the wall—your vibrator or dildo or whatever it was.”

This time it’s me who pulls back.

He’s staring up at me, his eyes dark with need. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Go get it.”

His face is hard. Serious.

Holy crap. He means that.

I lean to the side, and he holds on to me as I reach into the bottom drawer of my bedside table and pull my toy free.

“That…does not look like I thought it would.”

“What? You thought I was just in here riding on a big dong, pretending it was yours?”

“If that were the case, you would have been sorely disappointed when you saw the real thing and realized what you’d been missing out on this whole time.”

I shake my head. “So sure of yourself.”

Though he’s not wrong…

He looks down at the toy, a bit of a mystified look on his face. “How do you use it?”

“It’s a clit vibrator. You just…well, you put it on your clit and let it do its thing.”

“Do it.”

I pinch my brows together. “Huh?”

“Do it. Use it. I want to watch.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. I told you I want to learn you. Should I not be serious?”

“I mean…” I chew on my lip, then shrug. “It’s just that in my experience, guys aren’t very receptive to toys in the bedroom. Makes them feel inadequate.”

“Morons,” Dean says. “That’s such a bullshit way of saying it makes them jealous or that they don’t want to learn. They should want their partner happy, and if it takes a toy, it takes a toy. Not saying they shouldn’t also work at it but, I mean, fuck. It’s sex, not rocket science.”

I laugh.

I love how adamant he is about this, how he’s not intimidated and just wants to make me happy.